Tag Archives: parenting

I’m about to fucking explode, y’all.

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I am not ok and it is perseverating in my head and if I don’t set it down somewhere I am going to continue to freak out in my house with my kids and that’s not cool. So let’s start there, shall we?

My kids are acting appropriate for their varying ages. All of these stages are hard at this moment in that awesome way that sometimes cycles pop up. My oldest is a fucking teenager with a fucking rude teenager mouth. I feel like he just has to tell me I’m wrong or express exasperation at my stupidity over and over all day long. Often at times when I am not actually wrong or being stupid. I mean… when I am wrong I tolerate a fair bit of sass but it drives me insane when I’m not wrong. Middle child is not wanting to accept responsibility for some areas of forward progress and I’m struggling with that. Youngest is pushing every button and boundary like it is her job… because it is.

So that’s all fun and the background noise of every single day.

I went back and checked my logs (hi, yes I am incredibly obsessive about tracking all kinds of stupid details) and starting in June I went from sleeping 8 hours a night on average over the course of the month to sleeping 6 hours a night on average. The months since then have hovered around 7 hours a night on average. That’s pretty certainly part of why I have been doing much worse. Why did I start sleeping so much less?

Ah, fucking lockdowns are over and I feel incredibly pressured (mostly internally) to get out and Meet People and Volunteer and Be Part of the Community. Also this summer has been quite energetic with gardening tasks as I’m moving towards the permaculture/low key food forest direction. I’m super tired. Also eldest said, “Let’s go ahead and finish the lounge” and I said, “Oh uhhh ok.” I was kinda hoping to procrastinate the work long enough for the paint to go bad. Then I found out my old buddy was coming and I have some projects I said he could help me with. So I started sprinting to get stuff done before he arrived.

Reader, I fucking failed.

I’ve been very much working beyond what I should be. Oh, and late May was my first trip down to England to see A & P then in June I went back down to England to bring Noah and the kids to see A & P. That is seeming like the best decision I made all year.

Oh, and I averaged 6 hours a sleep a night the month I had fucking covid and I slept through 4 days entirely. THAT’S REALLY FUCKING BAD.

I’m not ok, y’all.

July was a sprint of work I was not physically prepared for. I have never taken time to really fully recover from covid, not really. I certainly haven’t carefully increased exercise over time to get back to the fitness I had.

August was a super sprint of work and it was exhausting. September was a lot of work sprinting plus my birthday which was absolutely fucking exhausting to the extreme and I probably made some foolish choices. I was not physically fit enough to do what I did comfortably and I have paid for it. October has been more and more work and then Noah and EC went off to Helsinki then the morning after they got home I ran off to San Francisco in a last ditch effort to say goodbye to A.

In a way there are shadows of my uncle passing. I was too late. I feel like I failed and I am upset with myself. I did get to help P with one of the thornier parts of handling A’s belongings and I am deeply grateful I could perform this service.

Being in San Francisco involved a ton of driving (ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow) and many hours of work and many different social interactions one right after another and very little sleep. I just couldn’t except for a few times when I passed out in awkward scenarios. Three people said they wanted to make plans then cancelled at the very last minute. Woo. That’s always fantastic.

My buddy is a challenge in many ways. I don’t want to say too much about that but I will say that he is very emotionally needy and he wants me to help him process and understand his entire life and that’s a fucking tall order. I am not a therapist. I feel like I am drowning in his feelings. He also can’t remember a lot of our conversations because of how much he drinks so each conversation has to be repeated a few times and that is really frustrating. I don’t begrudge him the needs but my bucket is so fucking empty.

I feel empty. I feel like I can’t take more shit being dumped on me. I feel like I want to scream and scream and scream until I have destroyed my voice from screaming. I want to sleep for several weeks in a row. I want to stop speaking to people at all and I want to go back to lockdown. I am so far into burn out I feel like a pile of ash.

I know that I am a good person to help people process grief but right now I can’t handle the flood of it. It’s not just the one buddy. I feel absolutely surrounded by loss this year. Grandmother in law, A, my buddy’s parents, other friends have lost family members, a different buddy is dealing with her kid self-harming, a somewhat surprising number of pets have passed recently and folks want to talk to me because I give them comfort. Right now it feels so hard.

Oh, yeah, and it’s been an incredibly stressful year on the money front. I think things have settled down now and while we are not fully “on track” we are in a very reasonable place and I’m no longer worried about bouncing payments. But it’s been a fucking lot.

Err, also my roof just got replaced and the scaffolding and construction fuss have been irritating and challenging because to a large degree it has meant that YC has not been able to play outside unsupervised for over a month. That’s not a great situation.

I’m not exercising enough. I stopped my yoga classes because we need to be contributing more to savings. I’m not eating well enough–I am actually not enjoying the kids cooking 4 nights a week because rarely do they put more than 1 vegetable serving in a meal and it’s not doing great things to my body. I’m sleeping for shit.

It goes on and on and on. I’m sure I’m not remembering all the fuss. My head hurts. I am tired of being tired.

Why are you so tired?

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I always feel kind of stunned by this question and I get asked it a lot. It’s weird living in a place where basically no one is familiar with my back catalogue of writing. I do not direct anyone here at all anymore and I won’t start. I no longer believe that reading my blog is a way for people to know me. It is a way that some people have learned some things about me and then they fill in the blanks with assumptions and projections and in the end I feel like maybe they know me even less than if they hadn’t read the blog at all. It’s complicated.

I don’t do all the cleaning in this house, thank goodness. But it’s a big house. What I don’t do myself I have to manage and parcel out and track. In some ways that is better and in other ways it is just as stressful and challenging. The kids alternate between calmly going along and doing what I ask and screaming at me that I am a horrible person who makes them hate their life so that’s fun. Apparently when I spend two weeks saying, “Look at the current chore list and figure out what/how you would like to renegotiate the things on that list” and they say “Oh the current system is fine and I want it to continue” so I continue to remind them to do the exact same thing they have been doing for 4+ months all of a sudden “YOU KEEP INTERRUPTING ME TO TELL ME TO DO RANDOM STUPID SHIT.” Uhm, excuse me?

I write down chores in a daily planner book. I do it months in advance according to a system that I sat down with the kids and worked out. “About how many days can/should you go between doing your laundry? How often should we clean bathrooms and who should do which one? What is fair for doing dishes? How often should we sweep and how do we want to rotate the chore?” The negotiation is long and detailed. It’s not just “Mom Made Me.” The kids talked about at what point they find using something gross and it needs to be cleaned. Professional house cleaners come in every other week and do a basic upkeep so we are not required to do all of it ourselves.

But when I say, “Hey x, y, and z have been assigned over the past three days and you haven’t done them–can you please take care of that?” I am a complete and total asshole who must be raged at. Awesome. That’s not fucking draining or anything.

I ask my kids if they want to do classes and if so what kind. They tell me they want me to hunt around for them and find classes like a, b, or c. I do that. It takes time. The classes cost money. I find what they say they want and show it to them. “Are you sure you want to do this? It is x-distance from the house and will take you at least y-time to get there? It will take z-money out of the budget so I won’t have money for this other thing.” Yes they want it. Then they get 3 days into the class and all of a sudden I am a horrible person who forces them to do stupid things they hate and it is all my fault that they don’t have any spare time because instead of actually fucking riding their bike they choose to push the bike both ways at a speed of approximately .5 miles an hour. Not draining or frustrating at all.

The older kids have locks on their doors. They usually won’t use them. Youngest child is constantly in their room stealing stuff because obviously big kid stuff is cooler and I have to spend a lot of time trying to keep large, towering people from screaming at a small child until my ears ring. It’s shitty and not cool all the way around. You getting louder doesn’t solve the problem. You locking your door solves the problem. But you won’t take responsibility for what you can do you just want to scream about how you feel violated. Cool. That’s not fucking exhausting.

The amount of hoarding and screaming and fighting in this house over food is making me hate my life and everyone I live with. So fine. We are going to buy more shitty food and I am going to stop arguing because they need to learn how to live with their bodies. When you transition out of limiting food it is always rough. (There are actually principles behind this transition and I am too tired and my hands hurt too much to explain them all. I did a fair bit of research on the topic and I am not going to justify it here. If you are legitimately curious let’s schedule a video call and I’d be happy to talk about food scarcity mindset, neurodiversity, nutrition research, and parenting choices.)

Gardening is a lot. This space is so much bigger than what I had in California and I feel like I am working myself to the bone. The kids are supposed to help and every minute of help is difficult to get and involves a big fight. I am so tired. I do most of it myself because I just don’t have it in me to fight. Sometimes I am out in the yard well past dark crying just doing it all because I cannot fight for more help.

My buddy is here and that is complicated. He has lived alone for a long time. He has never lived with a child in his life–his older siblings were much older than him and he has no memory of dealing with kids beyond hour or so visits sporadically with friends or family. There are a bunch of challenges around that. He’s here for a while. He is being *very* helpful in re-teaching me how to use power tools and helping me build some projects I want done. He is also used to working in a defined way always on a dead line to very technical specs that must be met because (reasons). My compost bins and chicken coop are not similar sorts of things. The amount and kind of project meetings he wants to bicker out every single last detail are hard. The frequency with which he wants me to stop what I am doing and focus on his questions is hard because I am keeping a lot of balls in the air and I don’t change focus that well. I can’t get back on track and half an hour of talking (it’s always “I only have a few questions and it will only take a minute” but really it’s many questions and it’s 30-45 minutes) set me back 1-3 hours because I have lost focus and flow and maybe I can’t even get back to what I was doing because now I have lost that window of time and I have another thing that has to happen Right Now. He has a lot of time to rest and chill out in between work times. I don’t.

I started typing this 45 minutes ago. Then I was interrupted to go fix a computer problem for a child (that has to forking start with a multi-hour download of updates because oh boy nothing will work when you are that far out of date) paused to brush the cat because folks noticed some fleas and the brushing needs to happen before the medication. I still haven’t finished my tea from breakfast, done the budgeting updates I’m supposed to do, or emptied the dishwasher and reloaded it from breakfast.

Why am I tired? Oh my god are you kidding? Do you actually not understand? Really?

I also need to finish taking the labels off the little jam jars so I can put the spices in them because the random bags of spices piled on an open shelf that fall down every single time you do anything cause daily frustration and frequent messes and I just can’t.

Oh, and I should paint today, do some weeding, some carpentry work, hang out the laundry that is in the washer and start another load. I also need to put the food in the fridge that arrived from the farm share box because apparently unloading the boxes means “put it all on the counter” to my kids. (One of them was cooking and me putting it all away would have meant getting in their way and they would have gotten annoyed.)

Did I mention that all of my chronic pain is through the roof and I am just about out of Ibuprofen gel and I don’t really have time to go get more? Also I need to go across town because we are about out of a few things that I get from the co-op and that’s about 6 miles round trip. I will probably wait until next week and go when I am on my way to or from the Youngest Child’s swimming class.

I told someone that I was falling behind on responding to emails/texts/messages on various platforms and she said, “Yeah I’m a procrastinator too.” ……. Does being so busy that you rarely have time to think a full thought outside of “What task do I need to be accomplishing full speed in the next 10 minutes” count as procrastinating?

Oh, and I need to respond to text messages from Middle Child’s best friend’s dad because otherwise the kids won’t see each other before the school year starts in 10 days and the bestie has been out of the country almost all summer. Woo. Haha. Got that done. Excellent. It will be great to see her again.

And really I have to close because ALL OF THE THINGS.

Praying and sleep

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Tonight I managed to get some time with my fingers in dirt. It was after I probably should have been in bed, resting. I am told resting is important. But I have been rather a nasty bitch for a few days and I needed to get a serotonin boost somehow.

I am working on a stone spiral for herbs; I won’t really be able to plant in it this year because the growing season is short here in Inverness. As I was grunting and laughing as I dragged up rocks that I probably should not have been lifting I thought about what it means when I say that I will pray for you.

If I say that I will pray for you I mean that I will think of you when I shove my hands into the soil. As I pile rock on top of rock and I shove sticks and compost into gaps I will think your name and I will hope that this universe grants you the nutrients you need to grow. I think of the people in your life who build you up and whom you in turn support. I think of how I want the universe to build a safe and stable place for you to rest. I want you to have the right amount of support so you can present exactly the angle of yourself into life you want to project.

I think of how I want you to have space around you to spread your roots into new directions. I think of how I wish water would flow around you to bring growth and moisture and sustenance as you go through your life. I think of how I want you to have seeds of new life, whatever that means for you, come to you with the wind and the birds and the flow of the seasons. I want you to thrive.

And around then I noticed that it was just about pitch black and I should probably stop. Given when in the year we are I guessed it to be close to midnight. Cell phone said it was 11:40. I’m pretty good at time. Then I laughed and thought of something that my son said to me recently. He said, “I’m kind of embarrassed to admit this but I didn’t really think you slept until after you had our little sister. That pregnancy was the first time I really saw you sleep.”

I tried to protest that it was ridiculous. Of course I sleep. He stopped and looked at me all deadpan. Then he raised his hands to melodramatically indicate the walls and the ceilings of the room we were in that I had in fact painted in the middle of the night while everyone else slept. He said, “Really mom. You do?”

As I softly shift dirt back and forth and move rocks to create the form I want even when there is no longer light I have to admit…. no. I don’t. Not really. Maybe if I did my body would hate me less. But would I really live longer or would it just feel longer?

I know the garden I want to stand in on my 50th birthday. It is going to be fucking amazing. I am going to be able to push my toes down deep into the soil and harvest fruits and vegetables that I made flourish. There will be flowers and wee beasties and a whole damn ecosystem. It might already be cold or there might be a last gasping heat wave. Either way I am going to sit in a rocking chair and hold Noah’s hand. Maybe I will already be wrapped up in a blanket or maybe I’ll be wearing barely anything at all–global warming is even coming for the north. I’ll have some whisky.

And if I am very very lucky I will even have a smile before I fall asleep for a well deserved nap.

I like the right people

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I was talking to one of my kids earlier today about some of my old friends and they pointed out that it is something like half of my friends-made-before-we-had-children group that has at least one child who has transitioned/is transitioning.

This seems like an excellent sign of my good taste in people. I have always been attracted to my people. I also have a significantly high rate of befriending neurodiverse folks. I suspect some correlation there.

(I think it is probably actually somewhere in the 30% – 40% range of families I know but even so that is phenomenally far outside the 1% rate of transitioning in the general population.)

There is always a cost

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I am so worn out and I am trying to both rest and catch up and it strikes me that they are diametrically opposed. My growing zone has an annual last frost date somewhere between the last 4 days of April and the first 5 days of May. There was snow on the ground last week. Because of the world-wide problems with insect die off it is widely considered wise to wait until the average temperature is 10C or above. This is slightly hilarious to me because only July and August have night time averages above 10C… the average is 11C. Does that mean we shouldn’t ever disturb gardens here? It’s a thought to ponder. (Waiting until the temperature rises is because bugs hibernate when it is cold and if you go out and tidy up your garden you may well kill off a generation of wee beasties unintentionally.)

Tasks I need to perform:

  • install bike pulleys
  • install trailer pulleys
  • build a better compost unit (my pallets are all rotting and sagging)
  • sift my compost pile and distribute the lovely material around my garden
  • get some fertilizer on my hydrangeas and all the food plants
  • finish taking apart the old shed for boards
  • build the potting benches for my poly tunnel and the raised beds I want to have in there
  • weed, always weeding around the fence borders because the ground elder is fierce
  • get more wood chips and cover more grass with it because by golly in about 4 years I will have subdued it enough to make a serious start on alternative ground covering plants
  • get more seeds because I only had like 5 packets of veg seeds left, and they were mostly gone in any case, and I need to get cracking on starting this year’s plants
  • figure out storage for the mountain of costumes I brought home from Texas
  • respond to cafe owner about holding meet ups for the youth group
  • schedule a walking munch and the 101 workshops
  • clean my dang bathroom
  • tidy up my room because right now it is a royal mess
  • restart the subscription orders from the grocery service
  • do a bit more pushing with the mum bike group to get some activities scheduled
  • figure out when the group camping trip is happening and get myself organized for that
  • install the trailer hitch on the new bike so that I can have towing capacity when I have extra passengers
  • get YC more time out on the balance bike because she has nearly outgrown it and I don’t really want to buy a bigger one I want her to progress to pedals, dangit
  • schedule with a freakin roofer
  • schedule with a plumber for the apartment bathroom (the sink is leaking)
  • schedule getting the retaining walls repaired around the property because it is past time
  • I really should be reading books because, dude
  • don’t forget the damn skin care routine
  • oh yeah I should eventually have sex with my husband
  • all of my kids could do with some one on one time because they are all feeling super needy and emotional
  • I really need to organize group bicycle skill training for my family because my instructions are not adequate to help all of them know what they need to know
  • I need to organize specific training in bike maintenance because this is causing a lot of fighting and fussing and it is driving me insane
  • I should submit data to the national database about when my fucking fruit trees are in flower because tracking this stuff is important
  • the XR people would really appreciate it if I took on more duties, as would the allotment people
  • oh yeah, I also need to schedule some physics experiments because my kids really don’t understand some basic elements that would make cycling go better
  • I need to sit on my kids more industriously about working on their school work because that is literally one of my main jobs
  • I haven’t touched up the sloppy paint areas in my room I was going to come back to
  • I want to move the white board from the kitchen into my bedroom so I can use it to track forking lists like this
  • I also want to change a bunch of how I store things in the kitchen/dining room/laundry room because the current set up is inefficient, sloppy, and difficult to keep tidy
  • I should also be more industrious about exercising and eating vegetables and going to fucking sleep at a reasonable time

Yeah. Fuck me. I still have almost constant headaches and neck aches from the concussion. The sensitivity to light is really bothering me but I have to push through it anyway. I am still feeling stupid and like I am not retaining new information. I feel unmotivated and weary and frustrated at basically every moment of every day.

Visiting Noah’s family was intense. I feel like I understand the dynamics a bit better. I have much stronger opinions about what I would guess for various folks’ diagnostic labels but I try not to say those out loud too much because I am not an expert and I am not seeing any of these people in any kind of professional capacity so it’s a dick thing for me to call out. However, it helps me decide how I should respond in terms of my own behavior and as long as it is my opinion and judgment and it exists in my head and I’m not trying to influence other people I think it is ok. It’s funny to me how much I can now go, “Oh yeah. I’m trying to place a rules system around this topic because that helps me understand it.” I don’t want to make other people agree with me or change… heck I don’t plan to see any of those people again for 3-5 years. I will barely communicate with them through rare letters.

I believe it is important for me to think about things in this way because I have to think in a long term way if I am going to manage the historical trauma my children have inherited. I happen to be a big believer in the epigenetic nature of trauma. The things that happened to their parents impact them. The things that happened to their grandparents impact them. The things that happened to their great grandparents impact them. That said, neuroplasticity and resilience count for so very much. And let’s not discount the benefit of various levels of privilege.

I don’t need to try hard to control other people. I need to know what I need to think about when it comes to my own behavior and what I am modeling for my children. That’s what I am doing here.

I mean, I can worry about the gardening and the social life and the academics and the house maintenance… but what I am actually fucking doing here is figuring out how to raise people who can come from a fairly intense amount of ancestral trauma and thrive. Their mental health, their resilience, their ability to grow and change and find a better path is what I am fucking doing with my life.

I lose sight of that. I get mired in the weeds (literal and figurative) because it is easier to put my head down and just do whatever is in front of me. When I do that I invite inconsistency and acting out unconscious patterns. I invite the repetition of behaviors that have already damaged their bodies through their inherited genetics and what the fuck am I doing; I know better. I don’t need to shove them through survival. I don’t need to create lists of tasks so long that no lifetime can contain them all and then convince my children that they are inadequate if they aren’t working their bodies into dust.

Life is not about grinding yourself in a mortar and pestle. It’s just not. There are costs to those behaviors and attitudes: impatience, lack of understanding, lack of dignity, unkindness, addictive behaviors, unhealthy bodies and minds.

Noah’s grandmother survived, but the costs her children paid were so severe that they cannot bear her presence. There is duty there, some of them still serve that duty, but there is no love. Her grandchildren can barely tolerate her. Her great grandchildren are split on despising her or on not knowing her. She accomplished fairly impressive things. What was the cost? She lies on a bed alone in a room day after day. Most of the people who have ever known her have no interest in her company. Was what she accomplished worth the cost?

Noah’s mother mostly has good relationships with her children. Noah fleeing the nest as early as he did and with such intensity seems to have made a lasting impression. She worked on her behavior. She came to therapy late in life but she did get there. That’s something. Is she perfect or healed or a person I would want to spend much time with? Oh goodness no. But the difference between how she acts now and how she acted when I met her over 15 years ago is dramatic. Not different enough for me to leave my children alone with her, even though she did ask politely.

I have stopped looking at the long run. I no longer weigh and measure how I behave based on the relationships I want to have with my 30 and 40 year old children. I am sloppy. I am messy. I am inconsistent. I am pursuing short term goals at long term cost. That is stupid. I am not modeling what I think should be modeled. I am not showing how to make better choices with a joyful heart. I am dragging myself through a series of tasks and I am short tempered and impatient. I don’t think I am being vicious but that should not be the bar. Frankly I am not happy with how I have behaved for a while. I’m distracted. I’m snippy. I am not performing the behaviors I believe are necessary because I am wearing myself to the bone on things that matter so much less.

This is not what I want my children to remember. Do I think they need to have some challenges and some difficulties in life in order to build resiliency? Of course. That doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want to be outward focused. I want to be focused in on the people I made commitments to.

Krissy, you know who you are supposed to be. Go fucking act like it. Or you will pay the cost.

This feels healthy.

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I think this would have been mostly our approach if we had stayed in California but it is a little bit hard to judge. Over the past few years Noah and I have increased how much we drink for a whole bunch of reasons. We both still drink a small enough quantity that a Scottish doctor will laugh themselves off their chair at the idea that we might have a problem with drinking. But we have a drink a few nights a week and rarely more than that in a night. (Ok, sometimes the drink is stiff.) The older kids ask for tastes sometimes. Middle Child asks slightly more often than Eldest Child and EC occasionally “sneaks” a little bit of something. I put sneak in quotes because she always tells us that she has done it and asks if we are upset.

That has been kind of a consistent theme with her lately. She is pushing boundaries on doing things on her own when no one is around to witness but she doesn’t push that hard or that far and she almost always feels super guilty and fesses up really quickly. Like: I put the baking chocolate/candy in a little plastic box with a 3 digit code on it. She spent weeks figuring out the code then stole some M&M’s. When I finally noticed she laughed hysterically and confessed her prank and immediately offered up more money than the candy had cost to start with. On her own she poured a tiny little bit of the Jammy Red wine and drank it. I believe her that it was a very tiny amount because I didn’t even notice the amount in the bottle change.

The other day MC asked if I would pour them a little bit of the white chocolate liquor that I like a lot. I poured about half a shot glass. They took two tiny sips and declared themselves sated and handed it back with most of it remaining in the glass. EC very much likes a particular brand of cider that I get and when I open a bottle she asks me if she can pour some of it in a cup and share. The whole bottle is 2 units of alcohol and she takes about 1/4 of a bottle. I don’t see a problem with that.

I feel like each kid probably consumes about a full unit of alcohol over a two month period. But they are adventurous and eager to find out what they like and they are developing strong opinions about brands and types of alcohol. Mostly they don’t like the vast majority of strong stuff and that makes me pretty happy. They almost always have a little bit and then say, “Ok I feel that. I’m done.”

I don’t remember seeing anything like this when I was young. When young people got their hands on alcohol they would chug it as fast as possible even when they thought it was horrible. I feel like my kids will be able to go to parties as young adults and only drink if there is something they really like and then not to excess because they are learning what it feels like in their body to just have a little.

Noah and I model fairly conservative habits around drinking. I am not sure when he was last drunk. I really struggle to remember a time when he has ever been woozy or more than a tiny bit extra goofy–but really who could tell when he is such a super dork all the time. (I read him the last couple of sentences and he says he has been drunk and I just didn’t notice because he was low-key about it. Oh, ok then.)

I got super drunk one night by myself super late. I was hanging out in a chat room and I got super silly and it was really fun. Then I went off and brushed my teeth and went to bed and it was a normal day the next night. I also got super drunk night one night when I went off to see friends on the East Coast of Scotland last summer. Like rolling around on the floor singing along with silly songs, drunk. I think that is it since I had kids. I don’t drink a lot.

I worry about this because I have friends who had terrible alcoholics for parents and I don’t want to hurt my children the way my friends were hurt. I am hoping and praying that I am threading the needle on modeling moderation and drinking because sometimes it tastes nice instead of drinking to cope with life.

So much of parenting is this terrible guessing game about “Ok, how am I fucking up my kids?” In this way I feel like we are not doing too terribly. I hope it continues to go well. Of course we are following Scottish law and Youngest Child is not entitled to taste our drinks until she hits the ripe old age of 5.

I shit you not. That’s the rule in Scotland. Children under 5 can’t have alcohol. I guess her next birthday is going to be a real banger. I’m kidding. It is pretty funny, though.

Insults in action

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Eldest child has decided that she is one of those ridiculous gamer people who call everyone (including me) “bruh”. For reasons that follow my usual extreme lack of logic this bugs the crap out of me.

Years ago she was saying/doing something where she was trying to “set someone straight” in a sassy voice and I said, “You got that right, sister.” She narrowed her eyes and and did the cat butt mouth and told me that I don’t get to call her that.

So last night when she started calling me “bruh” I said, “If you call me ‘bruh’ I’m going to start calling you ‘sister’ alllllllll the time.” She narrowed her eyes at me a little bit and carefully did not do a cat butt mouth (because I totally made fun of her for that until she stopped doing it) and then said…. “You know… I kind of love that our big name calling exchange is to refer to each other as siblings.” I skipped over and kissed her on the cheek and said “Me too.” Then she smiled and leaned her head towards me for a nuzzle.

ETA: I forgot to write down the funniest part! Middle child said “You also object to mum. Why are you so picky about names?” I said, “Because I’m not into mums. Definitely not my favorite flower.” MC said: “Yeah you aren’t into mums because you like dads!” I said, “Well I am into MILFs but that’s kind of a different thing.” MC looked puzzled but EC exploded across the room with “AHHHHH I CAN’T KNOW THIS” then she bolted across the room to glare at me as I laughed and laughed and laughed. She is feeling super smug lately about how she knows everything that can be made into a dirty joke because she is on the internet. Once in a while I am a twerp and I let her know that she isn’t the only one who can make dirty jokes. It cracks me up.

A while later I almost went up to bed without writing in the five year journal the kids just got me. Big eye roll here. Two years ago they both got 5 year journals in their stockings as a way to get them to practice handwriting just a little bit every day. This year they decided that if they have to suffer so do I. Well then! EC poked fun at me for almost forgetting then gloated about the fact that they will finish two years before me and she’ll be 16 when she finishes the book so I won’t be able to make her start a new one. I countered that oh yes I can. She said, “But I’ll be too old. You can’t tell me what to do by then.”

(Based on a reference to a comedian I watched a bit ago and I repeated it to the kids) I said: “Oh I’m going to be the whitest Mexican mom you’ve ever seen and if you sass me when you are 40 and married I’m still going to send you to your room. And you will go.” She furrowed her brow then gave a deep sigh and said, “Yeah. That tracks.”

What’s funny about that is I think I have only sent her to her room like once in the past two years because she was being unbearable. It’s not like that’s a big part of our relationship. With EC in particular usually all I have to do to let her know that she is over the line is to glare at her. She absolutely hates it and will crumble under the force of it. She still puts her hands up in front of her face so she “can’t see me”. Then she will loudly announce that she can’t see me and thus I have no power over her.

People ask me how often I hit my kids to get them to cooperate. Ha. My parenting is pretty much force of will, baybee. Also super long “discussions” where I explain that I am right and you are going to understand why I am insisting on (thing). For a few more years you don’t have to agree with me you have to obey. Then you’ll be an adult and we have to negotiate more.

Except for sassing me. Then you can go to your room.

If you need to hit your children to enforce your will you have already lost.

An affirming phone call

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I want to write this down so that in the future I can remember this feeling. I talked to a buddy in town yesterday; she works in special education in an autism class. This is sometimes complicated for her because her training is entirely in language teaching (usually foreign language to mainstream kids) but this was the job she could get around here. She has been given very little additional training/teaching so she is figuring it out as she goes and reading books on her own to help her in her job. Also worth mentioning that her daughter is Middle Child’s best friend.

We talked a lot about what I’m seeing and what I’m trying to figure out with regard to helping MC. We talked about the areas of severe academic delay (specifically: MC is effectively reading about 4 years below grade level and writing 5-6 grades below level) and the complications that occurred in the classroom when MC attempted to go two years ago. We talked about dynamics in our house around chores/getting stuff done.

She was very clear that she didn’t have a lot of specific advice but she was a sympathetic ear and she talked through her experiences working with families in her classroom. She understands why I am not super keen on pushing more in the direction of the National Autistic Society help and why I have the worries I have. I talked about Auntie who is in her 80’s and has her three adult children living with her because none of them can take care of themselves and live independently. I talked about my brother Tommy and the way he physically abused his entire family and why the tantrums/violent outbursts are so triggering for me.

Side note: in the past couple of weeks it has come to my attention that pretty much all of the friends I have met here have basically no idea that I have/had siblings and they know nothing about my traumatic family background. I made a couple of comments recently in context in conversations in completely different groups and they all responded with extreme shock and complete surprise. “How have I been talking to you for this long and I had no idea any of this happened?” Well… I don’t trauma dump anymore. I don’t share my mental state by and large with newer friends here. It isn’t relevant to mention any of these things if I’m not going to talk about anxiety/depression/trauma. So I don’t. This is part of my strong feeling that I am never again going to make a close friend where I talk about the really hard stuff. I will have surface friends and basically shut the fuck up about my brain going forward. It’s not safe to talk about. I can no longer absorb the consequences of being honest.

But I do sometimes need to talk about educational stuff and I need some amount of support around that. We talked about classroom strategies that she uses and how functional/useful they are for my child. We talked about the possibility of Youngest Child going into school here and the likely outcomes of that.

It is her professional opinion after working in special ed in local schools for several years that my children really are better off at home. The resources are thin on the ground and are only available for the most extreme cases. MC has already been on a waiting list for assessment for over two years and it could be another year or more before they are seen. YC would be looking at four or more years given how the waiting list has expanded over the past two years and possibly more like six years. The resources for private assessment are many hours away and their waiting lists are closed because they will not be able to get through any additional patients any year soon and they don’t want to have a waiting list that goes beyond two years. When they do reopen their waiting lists they will have a strong preference for siblings of children already in their system. Even if/when my children managed to be assessed there are very few resources available for kids at their levels. (She knows my family and is comfortable stating that.) Autism resources are only available for kids at the most extreme/non-verbal end. AHDH resources are pretty much limited to medication or being taken out of a mainstream classroom and not taught much. Other Pervasive Non-Verbal Learning Disorders are pretty much ignored entirely.

She and I have had many a chat over the years about our classroom experiences with special needs and the differences between what is given to 504/IEP kids in the bay area and what is available here. She contrasts this with what is given in her native (other European non-English speaking country that I won’t name for a vague gesture in the name of privacy) country and she is of the opinion that my level of training is higher than any co-worker she has ever worked with. She thinks American understanding of education and specifically special education for disabled kids is head and shoulders higher than anything available in Europe. She is stunned by the sheer variety and kinds of books I have read in order to be a more appropriate teacher for my children. I had previously mostly focused on the ADHD/dyslexia/general atypical neurodevelopmental needs reading stuff in conversations with her.

We shared the perspective that there is a very careful balance with special needs/disabled children and adults between giving them the help they need and enabling/infantilizing them to the point where they fail to learn skills that would allow them to be more independent as adults. When you are in the family you lack the objectivity to see the larger arc and how your actions are impacting your family. When you are in the classroom/an outside observer you lack the ability to see all the nuances and decisions that are creating the entire situation so you are ignorant of the full reasoning behind what is happening and whether it is necessary or not. We talked about how difficult it is for parents to hold the line and insist on many of the pieces of development that work towards independence because fighting every battle all day long is exhausting.

Then I said “And I get to be the parent and the teacher and be with my children for nearly all of their waking hours! It’s great!” She kinda choked for a minute and then gushed about how amazing it is that I do what I do with my kids because she sees the results and she sees us interact and man do I keep it together.

That was so fucking validating. She hosts MC for sleepovers pretty regularly. Her daughter is an only child and she’s pretty happy to have a friend over quite a bit. Her daughter has other local friends but has an easier time with MC than with a lot of the kids from school because my buddy and I have fairly similar perspectives on manners and appropriate ways to interact. Because of the one on one social dynamic and the fact that MC is highly motivated to be liked by people outside the family MC really shines in these visits as they get to show off their pride in being able to help with household chores and how to speak with people.

It’s really fascinating seeing how my personality plus my parenting techniques interact with my childrens’ personalities and needs. MC has a very strong basic need for control and a lot of anxiety around demands being made of them. However they have been raised in a 24/7 environment where there are very specific high standards about how we talk to one another and “we are workers, not shirkers” is the family motto so they have adapted their need to not be directed in somewhat surprising ways. The PDA profile fits them to a T and I can go down the list explaining all the ways they resist/avoid work… yet they still manage to do a significant amount of work because of the desire to be a “good citizen of the household”. It’s complicated/complex.

MC has very much internalized that a lot of the ways I am strict/intense in my demands are because of my internal terror that I will fail them as a parent and they love me; this makes them spotty in how they learn and follow through on what I ask but there is this undercurrent of wanting to try. They may take 6 fucking hours to sweep the kitchen most of the time because it is not ok with them on an internal level that they are being told to sweep the kitchen but when they go to someone else’s house and they want to show off they can do it in 5 minutes and tell their little friend all the specific tricks that make it easier/faster because they get to feel like a teacher and they fucking love that.

Hunh. I just had a thought. I kind of wonder if MC is going to finally be interested in learning to write when they get to feel like they are showing YC.

It is quite a challenge to get them to practice reading out loud to me but they do love to do it with YC. When they babysit (more like “mother’s helper” because everyone else is in the house but distracted with video calls or taking a bath) they do a lot of reading/talking about learning. Very much “Having someone read to you is the best…. let me show you.” So much of my teaching approach relies on careful observation and figuring out how to turn my kids personalities to my advantage. That and one to one teaching gives a level of intimacy that simply cannot be matched in a larger classroom. That is not a slam on classroom teachers in any way. I was not as good of a teacher to anyone in particular when I had 150 students. I did my best and it wasn’t what I can give my children.

I feel so much insecurity and anxiety about whether or not what I can give is good enough. I worry so much about letting my children down. It does so much to increase my confidence when I can periodically touch base with another teacher/educator and I can go through my approach and methodology. I do have a fairly extensive education when it comes to child development and what different special needs entail. I have worked very hard on understanding theory.

Towards the end of the call I said, “Something I am very conscious of with regards to my teaching and parenting is that I literally have more will and force of personality than most people. If I believe I am doing the right thing it doesn’t really matter how hard it is or how much time it takes I will do it. It is part of how my brain acts out hyperfocus. When I feel secure that I’m doing the right thing I have just about unlimited energy. I know that if my children were in a classroom they would lose out on that for a big part of their educational support because teachers by and large don’t have that intensity for a myriad of appropriate and healthy reasons. My kids do have special needs and I knew they would before they were born and I am fully committed to doing whatever I have to do to meet them. It is just hard and scary when I feel like I am flailing and I don’t know what to do.” She said that matches what she sees and my kids are lucky to have me.

I feel a lot better after the phone call. I do cycle through novelty. I do renegotiate how things are taught and what things are taught. I do hold the line on “You have to learn a basic level of functionality in order to be an independent adult and we are going to get you there.” I do push/encourage my children through learning and growing in ways that overall result in them liking themselves the vast majority of the time. Even when my kids struggle with anxiety there are usually pretty obvious organic/social reasons that I am not directly to blame for (obviously with the exception of genetics). I am not mean to my kids. I don’t beat them down. They are pretty happy and healthy and secure. Even when they are struggling for a while it is usually in ways that are predictable and appropriate developmentally and I help them pivot towards the path they want to be on.

I am not the shitty parent I sometimes fear I am. I am not perfect because there is no such thing. I do pretty well though. I refuse to stop learning and growing and increasing my ability to meet their needs. When I fail for a while I use that as motivation to push through towards a deeper level of understanding so I can better succeed as their needs change as they grow.

Part of the modeling I want to do for my children is showing that these periods of disequilibrium mean that you keep trying and learning and growing. You don’t give up and declare yourself a failure. As long as you are alive you have the chance to keep growing. Don’t give up on yourself. If we aren’t going to meet my personal goal of having my kids basically ready for complete auto-didact learning to finish the growth necessary for adulthood by 13 that doesn’t mean you can’t hit that mark by 15 or 18. It’s ok that you need the growth curve you need instead of the growth curve I had in my head as ideal. That is not a failure. It is a miscalibration and we’ll just keep going.

Frankly the way that MC needs to reassess every few months and needs a tremendous amount of novelty in order to keep doing things… looks like how I have managed my adult life. I go through intense bursts of focus in different areas. I have to restructure chores and tasks and hobbies regularly or I burn out. You know what? I’m not a failure. I do cool stuff.

MC will too.

Maybe that’s it?

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It’s not a secret that I have long had struggles with my middle child. I adore them and love them and worry a lot about whether or not I am doing the right things for them. I tried to get them evaluated by Stanford before we left California and they got a 15 minute yes/no questionnaire that wasn’t at all useful for data on understanding them. I was frankly pissed off. When they enrolled in school here after a month the school asked for permission to refer them for extensive neurological testing because something is going on. We’ve now been on that waiting list for a bit over two years and every sign points to the likelihood of it being another two years before we get answers. But kiddo is rapidly running into puberty when everything is going to get exponentially harder. My window for effecting major change is closing.

Due to all of that I’ve been doing more research. I am heading in the direction of Pathological Demand Avoidance. (Sometimes referred to as Excessive Demand Avoidance because pathological has a bad reputation. I mean… the definition isn’t awful. The word seems appropriate. I get that colloquial associations can be complicated.) It’s not really diagnosed in the states, this is a UK recognized syndrome. But holy shit when you read up on it: https://www.childrenandfamilyhealthdevon.nhs.uk/wp-content/uploads/2020/05/pathological-demand-avoidance.pdf Oh. That’s my baby. I read it and felt strong recognition. I showed it to Noah and he could illustrate each section with repetitive conversations we’ve had in the past. I read it to kiddo and they said, “Oh wow. That sounds like me.” So whether or not we ever get to an official diagnosis we are treating that like Plan A going forward at this stage.

This has some potentially wide ranging implications for the future. How we home educate needs to change pretty broadly because neither of us can handle more years of crying all the time from frustration that they just won’t fucking do as I tell them to do. We need to find new strategies for figuring out how to get stuff done together and separately. And frankly my plan had been to use our investment money till we die and have the will put everything left towards charities. That may… not really be an option if my kids are not going to be 100% able to support themselves and work. I’m still in the preliminary stage of course but I’m looking into stuff written by adults with PDA and mostly they are not independent and able to work.

(Very briefly if you don’t want to read the whole description on that web page: Pathological Demand Avoidance is very related to autism but there is no certainty whether it does or does not fall under the Autism Spectrum Disorder label. It has enough specific quirks around sociability that it seems to be related but not the same. It is a syndrome where anxiety is the dominant part of the difficulty and the stress of being told what to do is so intense one shuts down. By golly if that doesn’t describe my baby. I’ve been saying for years that when they have a list of things to do the most likely way for them to spend the day is staring at a blank wall, numb. Or huge violent tantrums. It’s a wild card sort of option.

I don’t say any of this to complain, criticize, or put them down. I am looking to understand better so I can figure out how I need to change my parenting so my child can have the maximum level of mental health and support available. If this is what is going on I want to see what needs to happen so they can thrive not so I can figure out which levers to pull to make them change. They are who they are. I accept them and love them. But I have clearly not been handling things in the best way and it’s a problem and it needs to change. We both feel bad a lot of the time and I believe with my whole heart it doesn’t need to be that way.

We are both smart. If we understand what direction we need to head in we will figure it out. One of the ways I am that I believe verifies my own autism diagnosis/autistic personality is that I need to have a set of rules/labels that tells me how to behave or I flail and I experience a fair bit of distress. If I can figure out what label is most accurate then I can do research on what works best then I can act it out. Work with what you’ve got and the whole thing goes better.

PMDD is so awful

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I am on day 42 of my cycle. I start running low on hormones around day 26/27/28. I usually start sometime between day 28 and day 35. It’s been pretty consistent since the last kid. I am… not ok this time. I can feel the complete and total lack of energy or happiness or give. My bones feel worn out and terrible. The numbness in my hands is super bad at this point. I know that a lot of that is how much I’m painting but progressively over the last week it has gotten worse and overwhelming and awful.

My whole body is hurting. I haven’t had many spells like this since I moved here. This is a California-level of pain. I feel sad and irritable and angry and disappointed in so many people and situations and results that I feel unable to cope. I am not suicidal; which is a blessing–that doesn’t darken my door much anymore. I just feel like I’d like to crawl in my bed and cry for a few days until my period starts because I am completely out of cope. In the overall scheme of things that is a relatively healthy and sane impulse and I feel proud that I am in this place now instead of where my lows took me ten years ago.

It is weird being able to list things that I miss about California and reasons that there were advantages there that I don’t have here… while completely knowing that I am overall doing better here than I ever have. Do I still have pain? Yes; particularly when I am drifting back towards California-style work habits that I know are dramatically not good for my body. Do I still have some anxiety? Yes; my anxiety here is so different. I can’t put a number on this to do like a “rate your pain” scale. Knowing that I will never run into Dan or Paul or my mother or my sister or Auntie or Anna or Brittney or or or or or means that I no longer live with hypervigilance. It’s not that I believe that nothing bad can happen to me I just fully accept that scanning the room for exits is not going to be helpful in any of the bad things that happen to me going forward. I can’t tell with a casual glance who is going to be a problem so I just… don’t.

I mean, when the dude got out of his car to yell at me and smack my hand I didn’t freeze up or start crying or react poorly until after he drove away. I stood my ground (in a suitably gun free manner) and I defended myself verbally and I took his picture. I did what I think I should do. And now I don’t scan looking for him or his car because I am pretty confident that if he ran into me in town and harrassed me again I would simply call the police and tell them we had another problematic interaction and he would get in trouble. They put a mark on his record.

I am living in a small town where the police get upset about that kind of thing between strangers. It is still hard to solve between neighbors… but that’s a whole different dynamic. Stranger assault is prosecuted.

I’m anxious about saying the wrong thing to people I am trying to make friends with. That isn’t gone but it is different from California. I find it intensely healthy for me to be consciously aware that people here don’t owe me anything. I haven’t been doing things for people for years with the hope that someday things would shift and they would support me when I needed it because they love me. That’s very freeing.

Even though typing this is terrifying for me I’m going to do it because this space has to be for me if it is going to work. Even things with Jenny have leveled off and found a comfortable stasis. We are not trying to live in one another’s back pockets because we are both cat-like and we like a lot of space. There are topics we kind of avoid because it feels like those aren’t the best ones for us. It’s feeling really comfortable and happy for me. I can only project and not speak like I really know how she feels but she isn’t expressing any dissatisfaction with our relationship. I feel like I pushed too hard when I moved here and we had to work out how to deal with each of us having our prickly points and it has worked out. She remains one of the people I love most in the world. I would bury bodies for her. If something catastrophic happened I would absolutely rescue her or her kids or her husband. I believe with my whole soul that she would show up for me in an emergency. I am feeling safe and comfortable that we have managed to find a nice place between us. I suspect in 5-10 years when our kids are older we will see each other a tiny bit more than we do right now but we are both people who are very comfortable in our own company and that’s not a bad thing.

I’m slowly working on other relationships in town and that’s slow going and complicated because people are like that. I like living here and I think it is going to be a good space for me in the long run. I worry a little about Noah’s place here because he is a lot more constrained than I am in terms of going out and meeting people. He’s going to need friends in the long run too and having them all be on his computer is mixed.

Kids are a pain in the butt. I’m just saying. This has been a bad week for me in terms of my emotional state and that’s no one’s fault. Also: my kids have been buttheads a few times and we’ve had words. I feel so intensely proud of myself because we had words. I didn’t shout. I didn’t scream. No one was punished or denigrated. “Hey this thing is happening and it’s not ok and we need to talk about why.”

Ok, take a deep breath and really feel that. Even when I am upset and I want to freak out because of hormones… we talk. I say, “Hey let’s explore some of the angles you aren’t seeing on your own right now.” When we are done they understand why I am asking for a change (it may or may not happen–let’s be real) but they aren’t angry with me for bringing it up. I understand more about why it’s going on from their perspective. It’s not ok to just silence people when they are inconvenient. Children aren’t problems they are *having* problems and talking about why is important.

It is so hard that my older kids are very much in a place where many of their problems are now things I cannot fix because it isn’t about me. The main upside of that is they are starting to feel in their bellies that it is true when I say the same thing about my problems. “I’m not upset about you. I’m having a problem.” I can see Little Girl struggling through what the older kids went through and she is directly acting out her stuff with her dolls and it’s interesting. I feel so much more emotionally/mentally distant from the process now than I did when the older kids were that size. I will roleplay with her with her dolls.

So yesterday morning I woke up and I felt awful and I cried some. It’s not because anyone did anything. Then Little Girl came in and joined me for a snuggle and she does this thing where she likes to dig her feet into my legs. Sometimes it is ok and sometimes my body hurts and it is super painful. I was already crying so of course she felt bad and took it on herself. Later she had a whole scene with her dolls where she was talking about them hurting her by poking her legs so she was putting them in time out because it’s not ok to be mean to her. I roleplayed one of the babies and talked about how I wasn’t trying to be mean; I was trying to be close because I love her. Is there a way I can be super close without hurting her? I am scared to go in time out right now because that means I broke a rule and I don’t want to feel like snuggling is breaking a rule. She was so kind and loving and caretaking with her baby. It was really wonderful to watch. “Oh my gosh! You are right! Snuggling is not breaking a rule. Maybe we should change where we are snuggling so that you don’t hit my legs and hurt me.”

My grinch heart grew three sizes.

(At this point pretty much the only rule she breaks is screaming in the house and you have to take big voices to your bedroom. This is not California and I can’t insist that all screaming has to be in the yard because of weather.)

I don’t talk about the big kids much anymore because they deserve privacy and walking the line is complex. But I do want to say that it is fascinating to me just how much they still ache for my approval. (They get a lot of it–I’m not saying this is a hollow thing.)

My Oldest Girl is pushing so hard to individuate and good golly hormones have hit her like a freight train and she has so much hostility about injustice and difficulty in the world. Saying good morning at the wrong time is fairly likely to get a stiff middle finger. I go with it. I try hard not to take almost any of it personally. We are dancing around the balancing act of “I’m still your mother so sometimes I am going to be obnoxious and I will want to give you a hug and a kiss. If you truly object in the moment you are allowed to refuse but mostly it’s a good idea to let me do it.” She is doing a lot better in terms of mental health since she stopped going to school. Things were getting really bad for a while there. We come from families that have a lot of depression and anxiety and PTSD and suicide. It would be highly unethical and neglectful for me to not act quickly when I can see my child melting down because of abuse they are receiving. She is starting to blossom again. She is returning to herself and I love seeing it. It’s going to be a process for her to find friends here and school is not going to be the solution. Her art blows my mind. She has so much talent and skill and she practices all the dang time. Her writing is fun and engaging and she is absolutely brilliant at creating pictures in your mind of what is happening to her characters. She still needs a bit more work on exposition but that’s not a terrible lacking–just something to think about and work towards a bit more. She is strong and fit and confident and willing to speak up for herself. And she’s taller than me and built like 30-something Taylor Swift and I cannot even.

My wonderful and delightful Enby is still plugging along. Puberty is happening and it’s a roller coaster. It’s interesting how the acting out is different now from when they were younger. They have so much more self control than they used to have. They still have giant feelings that are hard to manage at times but they know which direction they are growing towards/working on when it comes to expressing those feelings and they are consciously and deliberately learning skills around that. I am so impressed by the effort they put in to being self aware. They are baking and cooking and tweaking recipes and being brave and adventurous. I am sad we didn’t get a better evaluation done at Stanford before we left because they clearly have some specific learning challenge going on and I’m struggling with figuring out what it is. They really have a hard time with some aspects of education and we are trying a few different things because I don’t know what direction is the right one. They are making progress but I think they are always going to be a person who is much better with kinesthetic and active and oral learning rather than on paper learning. It’s really cool watching them learn coping skills around that. They want competence and if they have to route around an area of challenge for that… well just get on with it. They alternate between being this absolutely startlingly compassionate person and being a normal kid. I see them being on this see saw towards adulthood and it is so clearly part of the process they need to follow. They progress intensely then they regress a bit then they leap again. The more patience I show and the more scaffolding I supply the bigger each leap is and the smaller the regression. If I am impatient or difficult about the regression then it intensifies and they can’t leap again for quite a while.

It is fascinating living with these children. The Oldest doesn’t need my approval all the time–once in a while she succeeds in order to spite me. The Middle craves approval like it is heroin. They will beg, borrow, steal, to get it. They do not function well at all if I am anything other than a full throated cheerleader. Rebukes and course corrections have to be delivered with the softest of touches or they wilt and don’t recover for days… sometimes weeks. The Littlest is so small that she still needs tons of redirections towards “Oh hey it would be great if you….” “Oh golly if you do x then y will happen and that’s not good.” I suspect she is going to be more on the spitfire end as she grows. Her threenager year has been so very long.

This post brought to you by the good news that one of my buddies now works in the paint store and he is encouraged to give a friends and family discount to people and basically no one he knows buys paint. I was talking about the sorry shape of my arms right now and how I am pushing myself raising the clock before the paint dies and he told me to take a break. It won’t be nearly as expensive of an issue to fix as I fear. Ok. I will listen.

So I stopped painting a week before my purported end date. I have a ton of other work to do that has been sliding through the cracks. This will be in no way a bad thing. I am exhausted in a way that means I am not sleeping enough because I can’t shut my brain off to sleep. I’m craving alcohol like mad. I think at my next cycle of talking to the GP and psych nurse I will say that I think I am ready to both increase the Amitriptyline and the Lisdexamfetamine.

I am still on very low doses of both and getting closer to a normal dose would be useful at this point. My blood pressure readings are so so so much better on 30mg of Amitriptyline. I’m back in the high 120’s-low 130’s/high 70’s-low 80’s. There is still room for improvement but that’s not dangerous or scary. More Amitriptyline would possibly help with that. Losing weight would probably help with that.

These medications are breaking the stalemate of my weight plateau. I’m still eating whatever I want whenever I want. I am drinking some alcohol (in the range of 4-6 units/week because I know drinking is not recommended on these meds) but not nearly as much as I was. I am not doing tons of exercise because I have been in the house painting all the time but I am still doing the twice weekly yoga and I’m riding in the neighborhood of 20-ish miles a week and even occasionally getting in a decent length walk. I’m not sedentary but I’m not over-exercising in a way that would cause weight loss. So I really believe the drop is as a result of the medications at this point. I didn’t think to weigh myself right when I started the medications. The first data point I have in this year was in February and I was 211. In late August I was at 203. As of this week I saw 199 for the first time in a long time. I repeat: I am not dieting. What I am doing is taking medications that change my brain chemistry and increase my serotonin changes how my brain processes dopamine. That’s making my body not feel like it needs to hold on to fat in the same way. I’m not doing this because I want to lose weight; I am noting physical changes in a way that can be measured. Things like mood are harder.

The PMDD window is something that can overcome the positive effect of any medication in my experience. I am seriously dreading the peri-menopause experience of my cycles gradually lengthening. I expect the next ten years to be hard. But it’s not like any decade has been easy so get on with it. I am deeply grateful that I have gotten to the point where when I feel really low that does not increase suicidal ideation or fixation. I am grateful that I don’t struggle with the desire to mutilate my body anymore. It is complicated as fuck dealing with my children as they have times of feeling like they want to hurt themselves. I am grateful to the marrow of my bones that they know they can trust me and talk to me when they feel like that. Yes, you can always come in my bed and snuggle if you feel you are scared and you aren’t safe to be alone. Puberty is a horrible time and we’ll talk and we’ll get you through this.

If therapists were available they would be in therapy. I didn’t understand the depth of privilege we had in California around mental health. My entire life trajectory happened because therapy was plentiful and that would not have been possible in other places. All my kids have is me. That’s fucking daunting. (I mean, they have friends and we are making community connections…) We talk a lot about having thoughts and feeling impulses doesn’t mean anything bad about you. Let’s talk about the possible consequences if you follow through. I’m not saying I will punish you; I’m saying that once you cross the line into these behaviors there are people in the community who are bound by law to intervene so if they find out this is what will happen. It’s out of my hands. Let’s talk about strategies and ways of coping and figuring out what other things could be done instead. Let’s build habits around feeling distressed so that when something even worse happens you have some pre-built ruts in your brain for how to handle bad things. Let’s talk about distorted feelings and projecting and learning how to scan your central nervous system and what tools exist to help you feel grounded and like you can wait to act–this feeling does not require a response RIGHT NOW. For the record no one is actively suicidal, no one has any kind of plan, and people are not engaging in the sort of behavior that would involve mandatory removal from the house.

What is happening is that they both have had to deal with bullying and additionally people have been telling my daughter that she should kill herself. They are both just children and this has been hard for them. They have every predisposition genetically towards mental health struggles. Life was never going to be a walk in the park. There were always going to be dark times. But you can bet your fucking buttons that I am going to teach them how to light a candle in the dark. (I got some LED candles so nobody else tries to burn down my fucking house. Oh good grief.)

They are kids. They are all so different. I like all of them. I am annoyed by all of them. I admire all of them. I enjoy spending time with all of them. I don’t know what their future will bring but I sure hope that I get to be an enthusiastic cheerleader as they go do all the things they will do. I tell them that when they don’t believe in themselves they can borrow some of my faith in them. I will never ever run out.

Find gratitude: flood edition

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In five years this will be the kind of story we tell as a group and we will cackle. Heck, by three hours after it happened I had already started laughing in that “Holy fucking shit of course this happened this week” sort of way. Ok this is kind of a long story.

We ran out of oil last week. Apparently our tank is set just a little bit lower than the boiler so even when it looks like there is still oil… that doesn’t mean there is enough pressure to get to the house and the water and heat will go out. It took us a few days of messing about with calling plumbers and waiting for them to not show up before we called the joiner-man-of-all-work who has done all of the other work for us. Turns out he has a buddy who works on our type of boiler! He was there 15 minutes later. I’m sure he was shaking his head over how silly we are but I can live with that. Put a call into the oil company: oh whoops. It is after 5 on a Friday. They won’t hear the message till start of business on Monday. Ok. First thing Monday we get an email saying they put in a work order. It can take up to a week before oil is delivered once the work order is put in. Noah calls them and explains our situation. They put a star next to our order to hopefully put us near the top of the priority list. But it’s Wednesday and no idea when the oil will arrive.

This sucks particularly hard because our tenant is Muslim and he should be taking showers and going to Mosque every day right now. Freezing showers are not his idea of a good time. I don’t blame him. I told him not to pay rent on May 1st because this whole situation is our fault and it’s negatively impacting their life to a severe degree and just oh good grief. I feel so bad for negatively impacting their lives right now.

Tuesday was pretty good in the main. Youngest Child and I went for a carefully socially distanced play date with her two little same-age friends at the park. It was nice. Then lunch was tasty. Eldest Child asked me to go for a hike after lunch and we went up the hill into the woods. Youngest enjoyed being in the shoulder-carrier for a lot of the trip up the hill because she was tired. Freakin kids.

EC told me a lot about the characters in the new-to-her anime she is currently obsessed with. What she likes and doesn’t like about them: apparently the best character is a teacher who she says reminds her of me. Every child in the class is traumatized but very prepared for life! Hm. We talked a lot about different things that are coming up for her. We talked about how different people have different skills/talents/things to teach you and it’s ok that you drift back and forth appreciating people more and less at different stages that’s fine. She said something… I don’t remember exactly what. She has this hero worship of me thing lately and it’s frankly quite bizarre. She really wants to grow up and be like me because I am so awesome and I always know the right thing to do. I told her I worry that I haven’t let her fuck up enough. Then I said that I don’t always do the right thing. She scoffed.

I told her that a few years ago I had a birthday party and I was feeling very hemmed in by being a parent and always giving and always having to project happiness I only kind of feel and I was tired of being responsible and an adult and… so I arranged that there would be a morning birthday party that was kid friendly then an adult part afterwards that would be very adult and involve taking drugs. It didn’t start out as a party that would involve drugs but it morphed into one over a couple of weeks of planning. Her eyes got a bit wide.

I told her that in the run up to this party someone that I loved dearly sent me a letter telling me that I was an evil drug pusher and I was ruining people’s lives and I was a very bad person for doing this. I explained that he was dealing with having a child in rehab and he was questioning his own life choices and feeling like he made some bad decisions and really he was yelling at his past self and trying to have me make better/different choices than he had made so I didn’t have so many regrets.

She said she was confused because I still talk to the guy and I talk about him in glowing terms and how can I feel love for someone who was so awful to me?

There is a difference between people who run you down and want you to feel bad because that is the sort of toxic relationships they have in general and people who love you very much where sometimes they have something very painful happen and they lash out with pain. There is a difference between a toxic user and being a human being in terrible pain. It can be hard to tell them apart; it’s about large patterns over many years and typical tendencies not one time things. It’s about believing the totality of what you see from a person and not thinking an outlier is the truth.

I told her that I sat on that email for a few days trying to deal with my own hurt and when I responded I told him that I understand that he is in great pain and he is taking it out on me. I told him that I forgive him and when he is ready to talk to me again I will be waiting. It took about five years. We spoke again and he apologized and I tried to be gracious: goodness knows I have done more than my share of lashing out in pain. I love him and he has been really good to me before and since that one explosion of pain.

We all deserve grace. Human beings make mistakes, most especially when we are hurting and we feel like we have hurt other people through our ignorance or unintentional mistakes. If we want grace we have to give grace.

People are my religion. I believe in you. I believe that you can change and grow and be better. I believe I can change and grow and be better. I want to do that together. We learn the most from our biggest mistakes. We learn from the big mistakes of our friends. If we want to have connection and love we have to see and accept people for the totality of their humanity.

She clutched my hand and leaned her head on my shoulder and told me that she feels very lucky to have me as a mom. My heart soared.

Then we watched YC a little ahead of us on the trail pull down her britches in the middle of the path and pee all over her clothes. It was… hilarious. I did not give her a ride down the hill. She had to walk.

When we got to the bottom after our 5 mile hike EC and I both discussed how much we would like to have ice cream. She said she would deal with cleaning up YC while I rode my bike into town and got some of the good gelato. Noah was making dinner. Middle Child was doing online classes.

I enjoyed listening to Hamilton on the way to and from town and I cried thinking about how hard life is and relationships are so painful. I’m so impressed by the nuance given to Aaron Burr in the story. I was thinking a lot about my mom. I wish that grief could get less intense.

Then… I got home. From the road I could hear an annoying beeping. I prayed that it was coming from my neighbors property and not my house. No such luck. When I walked in the smoke detectors were screaming. It was hard to tell exactly what was wrong; my first guess was Noah burned something while cooking. I looked around and no such luck. There was no smoke. Instead there was water pouring through the light fixtures and smoke detector. It was splashing all over the computer table and floor and I could see it coming from the upstairs. Everyone in my house was screaming at me trying to explain what was going on. I tripped on YC as she darted back and forth screaming and adding to the general sense of disorder and she decided that the absolute worst part of the day was me stepping on her. I did not apologize. I think I screamed that everyone was in so much trouble.

I then decided that the right thing to do was turn off the master power to the whole damn house and I will deal with everything else once the deafening fucking noise was gone. I asked Noah if he had told our tenant what was going on (she was downstairs with her tiny baby listening to all this). Of course he hadn’t so I went and gave her a brief explanation so that she wasn’t concerned while ignorant. I promised I would handle it as fast as possible.

I went in my room and called the wonderful handy-man-of-all-work and said I needed him to talk me through something but I don’t need him to show up. Luckily he pretty much agreed with all of what I was proposing and we made a few jokes about how maybe it would be best to chain the 3 year old to a tree in the yard for a while.

I came out and went to the electrical panel and started doing a little bit of sifting through what could be turned back on and what needed to be left off indefinitely. This allowed me to run an extension cord from the studio to the kitchen with a dehumidifier and a space heater running. There was a lot of confusion and talking over each other and in the process I was not so kind and I told YC that she did this and I was very angry about it.

But after I stuck buckets and pots under the drips (other people thought just putting a towel under the flowing water was good enough… yeah no) and moved computers and had EC move all of the freezer foods out to the deep freeze in the shed and we had dinner and sat down to just… stare off into space that’s when I started laughing.

EC asked what kind of trouble she was in. I said the kind where I’m really mad for an hour or two then I get over it because shit happens. When you have kids… these things are going to happen. It is utterly unavoidable.

I know exactly what happened. YC turned on the shower sprayer attached to the bathtub and sent the water everywhere. She had a great time. The upstairs bathroom is not well sealed at the base of the wall meeting the floor. The water went around the edges and got down through the air space in between floors and then went looking for any hole it could find to come down. The walls and ceiling aren’t soft at all and by this morning it is dried out and fine. I know there isn’t any other leak and the paint job is fine.

This reaffirms my belief that I would like to have every bathroom in my house fully sealed into being a wet room as time and money allows. Shit happens.

Nobody is in trouble today. We had banana bread and ice cream last night. And by we I mean everyone except for the kid who ate about 4 slices of banana bread earlier in the day because holy cheese that was your dessert for the day. Noah decided that he is done messing about with trying to find contracting work that allows him to work part time. He is going back to full time work because when he works full time his income is absolutely obscene and all of the things we’d like to fix in the house could be fixed after a year or so of him working full time. If I am careful about how I do it I can probably get our savings goals to full completion in fiveish years and afford to do the remodel stuff that would give us more space to manage living here pretty much permanently no matter how many kids stay with us.

I woke up this morning and turned the breakers back on. Things are fine and other than some remaining clean up (laundry, scrubbing floors) it’s over.

My gratitude is this: I get to wake up in a safe house and fix my problems. I get to plan for the day when I will have the means in petty cash to fix all of this and every other problem that is going to erupt. I am more safe than I knew a person can be. Thank you Noah for picking the right hobby when you were 7. Thank you for asking me to marry you. Thank you for giving me this life.

When something breaks we can fix it. Almost no matter what it is. And in the long run… we will laugh about it.

That’s what I mean

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I used to ask my mom strange questions. I remember that I had a few in particular that I’d ask over and over and she’d kind of freak out. One was: “What would be the most important thing for you to keep if we become homeless and we lose our car?” That question really bothered her and I asked it over and over and over all through my youth.

My oldest asks me what I would do if she died. I don’t think she is suicidal–it’s not that sort of question.

When I’m doing work I often like to have a show I have basically memorized in the background. I haven’t ripped the DVDs yet so West Wing hasn’t been my show of choice since I left the US. Here it is Call the Midwife. There’s an episode where a one-show character is introduced. Mrs. Jenkins is an old woman who spent 30 years in a workhouse and all of her children died there. This character exists in the show to show the rich and privileged main character, Jenny Lee, what it is like for people who have really suffered in poverty. Mrs. Jenkins cries loudly “The workhouse howl” as she keens her grief when she is alone.

That episode came on last time when I was painting and my oldest was sitting close to me working on her drawing while I painted. I said, “That’s what I mean. You always ask what I would do if you died. I tell you I would go on living but I would never be ok again. That’s what I mean.”

She looked utterly shattered.

Life is painful. Sometimes there are people you cry over forever. The smallest, stupidest reference to my mother can lead to me crying. That grief is so close to the surface that if a gentle wind blows away the leaves covering it then it goes off like a bomb. Am I still alive? Of course? Am I ok? In a manner of speaking. I smile. I project happiness. But I ache every day because there is a piece of me missing. A piece that I tried so hard to replace with friendships only it never worked out.

I’m almost 40. When will I stop crying over my mother? I’ll let you know if it ever happens.It is absolutely terrifying to consider how much it would break me if I lost a child. Some days I feel like I am held together with paperclips and string. How could I replace that much loss?

I need them to out live me. So eat your fucking vegetables and get regular exercise, damnit.

The only opinions that matter

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I used to be incredibly insecure about my parenting. I put a lot of effort into documenting what I said and how I said it and I looked to my friends as the arbiters of whether I was good enough or not. But over time and with the demise of most of my close relationships that has shifted.

The longer I parent the more I understand that a lot of the people I chose to be my judges were people who had deep trauma based on the parenting they experienced. Like often feels comfortable with like and in my pre-parenting life I mostly attracted other people who had traumatic backgrounds like my own. We could validate one another and commiserate. It was what I needed as a childless person.

I don’t think I can point at a moment or year when I stopped wanting to know the opinions of other people when it comes to my parenting. But that switch flipped somewhere. Your opinion is your opinion and it isn’t a fact and it isn’t going to influence my behavior so you should go ahead and keep it to yourself. I have noticed this recently when I had an initial impulse to maybe write about an interaction then I felt a pause in my thinking and I instead talked to the kids.

I love having older children. I love the conversations and the intense interactions we have. I love that they feel entitled to have opinions about things that happen to them. I love that they are willing and able to negotiate for changes when they need them. I love that they reflect upon their experiences and can talk about which parts feel ok and which parts need to be adjusted. They think deeply and they express their evaluations with nuance and determination.

They feel confident and self assured when it comes to asking for change and support. I mean, sometimes they frame it as diffidence or insecurity “There is something I want to tell you but I’m afraid you’ll get upset”. To which I reply, “Enh you know that I don’t yell at you about personal stuff I yell about stupid things like chores.” “Hm. You are right. Well here it goes…” Then we have a nice chat.

I am still obnoxious about chore stuff. I go in cycles. When I am overwhelmed by life because of a multitude of factors I yell about chores not getting done on a timeline I would prefer. It is not my best trait. It is basically the last shitty pressure relief valve I have. It’s not great and it isn’t ideal. It’s not constant and it doesn’t overwhelm our life so I am not losing sleep over feeling shameful about it.

I’ve been rereading (or first time reading) books on coping with executive function difficulties. We are a house full of people who struggle. I spoke with a dear old friend recently and he commented that when his son was diagnosed with ADHD he had a “hmmm” moment because he was never diagnosed and he isn’t going to bother in his late 50’s he almost certainly could have been diagnosed if it had been as much of a thing 40-50 years ago. The ways we recognize ourselves through our children is so striking and dramatic. Having children forces you to deal with the traits that you struggle with through a whole new lens. Your children aren’t you and they don’t have your experiences but they have a mix of your traits and your partners traits. Many of us pick partners who have similar enough struggles that we can understand each other.

My children are not me and they are not Noah. They do, however, function as semi-distorted mirrors that reflect back parts of ourselves that are mixed. They are highly capable. They are intense people. They struggle with figuring out how to use their time with deliberate planning so they can get through their list of tasks. They can occasionally really struggle with emotional regulation though these failure modes go in different directions for each of the kids. It’s neat watching their similarities and differences.

It’s almost like watching my personality traits and Noah’s personality traits get turned into the sweets that stuff a piñata and giving birth whacked the piñata open and now the kids are each picking up random bits. Sorry for the pieces that are overly chewy and get stuck in your teeth, kids.

I love them so much and I admire them so much. I feel such tremendous validation that they like me as much as they do. The older kids are definitely getting to the point where they crave peer friendships with great intensity but they want to come back and tell me all about it and share it in retrospect. They want my help understanding dynamics. They want me to help them process their feelings and thoughts. I feel deeply respected and admired.

It’s fucking awesome I have to say.

It is hard for them to go out and make new friendships with the pandemic. This is a rough time for them and all of their peers. But they are finding ways to reach out. They are finding bridges into the community. I’m having mixed feelings about their increased internet participation in life but I suppose it was coming. Oldest is counting the days until she can have a youtube channel of her own and she’s making videos about as fast as she can. The big kids are on Discord. I’m networking with homeschoolers in the area. I have found some families that are around MC’s age and I have found a couple of families close to YC’s age. I think things will be ok once we can get going again.

Now we wait for safety. Something that feels hilariously elusive.

Feels like freedom

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When I am out on my bike I always think “I want to go home and write about how good this feels” and then I basically never find the time/space/impetus to follow through. Walking through my front door means my family needs me to transition to their needs basically instantly.

I love being on my bike as my form of transportation. I know that if we had a car the lazy default would be there and I would probably embrace there being less of a process for getting places therefore I am super glad I don’t have a car. I feel strong and free and confident and happy out on my bike. People wave and greet me. I get to be out in all the weather and feel in my body what it means that there is no bad weather only bad clothing. (I would argue that there is no safe way for me to bicycle on ice.) Hail? Meh, ok.

I love my battery assisted bike. Am I cheating? Fuck you with a two by four. Sell your fucking car before you fucking call me a cheater. It makes it possible for me to pull 60-80lbs up a fairly massive hill on a regular basis. It means that I can decide how much strain my legs can handle on a day by day or even minute by minute basis and adjust based on my own feelings of strength or weakness. When I start the day out I rarely use much assist and when I come home tired I can use a lot. It’s great. It doesn’t make me go a lot faster it just makes it a lot easier to go as fast as I want to go. I’m not a fast rider and I don’t try to be.

I think I could get the kids on board with liking bikes more if the pandemic weren’t making life hard. I don’t know that I will ever get Noah to feel ok with riding the bike and I worry a lot about the strife that will cause in the long run. (Not an invitation to debate that here, Noah.)

Things are going okay in general in the house. Two is a rough age. I have cut the oldest kids off from the screen because they were being really unpleasant. You know what happened? They fight less (they do still fight…). They play together more. They are reading more. They are doing more projects. They do more chores. In general I like living with them more. This is complicated. On one hand I feel like they need to learn how to have balance about these sorts of things on their own. On the other hand… they are still children and they need to be parented. I am very clear over and over that the screens are owned by adults and the children are allowed to use them at our discretion. It’s not like their stuff in their room. To me that feels like an important distinction but maybe I’m just being a hypocrite.

Parenting continues to be hard and demanding and draining. I don’t find myself with a lot left to give to any other aspect of myself. And with being in a lot of pain my capacity is seriously diminished right now. Ah well. I stumble through.

Maybe I can sleep now.

That is the deal.

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My oldest child is off having adventures on her own. Separation is great! She loves getting to come home and tell us all about her day. Of course she’s an intense person and she isn’t everyone’s cup of tea and she’s having to deal with social friction. This is important for a lot of reasons and I have no desire to take this experience away from her. She needs to learn who she is.

The trouble is, when someone starts some shit she retaliates just a little enough to keep a slap fight going. She doesn’t want to be perceived as a coward so she feels she must respond but she also doesn’t want to be a bully so she doesn’t want to escalate. We’ve been talking constantly for weeks about how that just encourages the situation to keep going at a simmer and she’s obsessed with talking and thinking about her negative experiences all day long. She feels like when she is at school she never stops looking over her shoulder. She’s developing a lot of anxiety and her stomach hurts most of the time. It’s making it hard to eat.

She keeps telling me that she wants to be a badass like me so she has to respond, she can’t just run away from the issues or people. One of her new buddies at school is the tallest boy in her grade and his response to bullying is to run away 100% of the time. She is very conflicted about watching his response.

I told her that as long as she sits on the fence she is going to encourage the problem to keep happening. Either get in a serious fight and really hurt someone… or decide you are committed to non-violence and start running. I will support you in whatever you decide. Sitting on the fence is going to go really poorly in the long run because it will egg the situation on and it will never improve.

She told me that she feels like she is letting me down if she runs because she wants to be brave like me.

Oh baby.

I fought when I was your age because I had a dad who raped me and a mom who mostly didn’t want to talk to me and I had been in foster situations for most of my life and I had gone to 19 schools and moved like 40 times. I fought because I was a highly traumatized feral animal who was trying to not die.

It didn’t make me a badass. It made me a traumatized feral animal.

She said that sometimes it is hard that she is so exceptional that sometimes I act disappointed when she is only average. I agreed that it sounded very hard. I can’t identify with that struggle. People expected me to be shitty and worthless and were shocked when I demonstrated anything else. I cannot understand what it feels like to let down your parents by not being perfect.

I told her that I don’t ever get to be the judge of whether her life has been highly traumatizing because my perspective is so fucked up and extreme that I am not in any way qualified to decide if her life experiences have been abusive. If she needs to react to the trauma she has experienced with violence… I am going to try hard to not judge. I’ve tried hard to give her stability and love and support so she doesn’t need to but there is the real chance I have failed.

I told her she is heading for a crisis of faith because sometime very soon she is going to figure out that her parents are fucked up assholes and she is better than us and she should not be aspiring to be like us. She has every chance of being so much better than us that we can’t even imagine what it is like to be her.

Aspiring to be like me at her age…. is not #goals. It’s not an improvement over who she is right now. I was worse, and meaner, and less loving, and less caring, and less educated, and less equipped in basically every way.

I told her that I try very hard to be like her. Because I can see which direction is an improvement in this house and it’s not being more like me.

I asked her if she feels I am more brave and badass on days when I lose my temper and scream and I behave like a bully towards helpless little people? Or am I more brave and badass on days when I can redirect and help my kids move towards their own aspirations of who they want to be?

I asked her what things make me a badass at this point in my life? I gave up fistfights more than 25 years ago. She said what makes me a badass is being brave and going on adventures and making things that other people say “I can’t do that”.

I asked her what part of me being a badass is making other people hurt and feel small?

She said none of it.

I asked her if she really wants to be aspiring to be the wounded traumatized part of me that had nothing better to offer the world or if she wants to be working towards the me that had a lot of therapy and a lot of privilege and a lot of time to pick and choose who I want to be and how I want to live in the world.

We cried together and she said that I really see the worst of me and I’m a lot less of an asshole than I think.

I said maybe. I said if I am less of an asshole than I think and I have treated her better than I fear I have then maybe she doesn’t need to lash out at people who are sitting in their own trauma; people who have nothing better to offer the world.

I asked her how she wants to remember this time of her life when she looks in the rear view mirror? Do you want to take pride in hurting people who don’t have a better way of living in the world or do you want to be someone who shows other people a better way?

I will support you and love you as you stumble through either path. I love you. I accept that you are not perfect and you have to make your own mistakes.

On the day that you were born I forgave you for everything you would ever do wrong. Because that is the deal.

Steaming pile of mom wrath

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This morning Eldest Child (who is now 12) started off a conversation with “You know how you think gacha videos are a complete waste of time?”

“I don’t think they are a complete waste of time. I think you learn things about youth culture and social interactions and music and video pacing and art technicalities and all kinds of things that I don’t need to learn at this point. So they are very useful for you and not something I want to spend my time on. That’s not the same thing as being a complete waste of time.”

“Uhm, well right now I’m trying to learn come backs for insults. Like if someone calls me ugly I can say ‘At least I don’t have an ugly personality.'”

She continued on with a few other similarly clever responses and I nodded along and smiled a little. Then she got to the humdinger.

“Or like, if the girl saying I am ugly is wearing a crop top I can say ‘At least I don’t look like a stripper!'”

There is this thing I do. If I freeze then slowly rotate my head towards you with a scowl on my face you know you are in trouble. She froze too. She knows. She didn’t know what was coming but she knew it wasn’t good and her whole body tensed up.

“Oh really. So at least you aren’t like my friends. Because you know I have friends who are strippers, right? At least you are better than those people who have jobs. Right? At least you are better than girls who are comfortable with their bodies and their sexuality, right? Those bitches should cover up and be ashamed of having a body and never have sex. RIGHT?” (If anything my volume got a lot lower than usual. This emphasis was all in intensity and not volume.)

She looked like I had slapped her across the face. She was stunned.

“You totally think girls and women should cover up and be modest and ashamed of having bodies, right? That’s your value system?” (For the record she has mini skirts, tube tops, and crop tops. She’s always too hot so she’s had these for years.)

“No… I don’t believe that at all.”

“Then why would you try to shame someone in exactly that way?”

“Oh god. It’s not even 8am and I have stepped in a steaming pile of mom wrath.”

“Well you tell me, what do you believe?”

“I believe that girls and women should be allowed to enjoy their bodies and enjoy sex. I will never say that again. I’m sorry.”

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Recently someone told me that they want to have kids who are comfortable with sex and sexuality so they have open and free conversations about their own sex life. I had a lot of trouble not reacting with repulsion and horror. You don’t have to talk about your own sex life to inculcate sex positivity in children. You don’t have to treat children like a peer in order to show how you live in the world. I am a freakily modest dresser. I cover up. There are a lot of reasons for it, none of them related to morality or shame. My children are not learning that scanty dress is fine by watching me.

But by golly I will go out with a pitch fork and defend someone else’s right to dress that way. I think we normalize and teach our values every single day by what we say and how we say it. I don’t flip out over every stupid thing my kid says (she’s at that age where about half of what she says is gob smackingly stupid) I mostly mildly redirect her or raise an eyebrow or roll my eyes. She will learn.

But in this house it is never ok to shame someone for having a fucking body and wearing whatever clothes they want. In this house it is never fucking ok to shame someone for having a job even and especially if that job involves sex work. Never. You don’t do it. Or yeah, you will step in a steaming pile of mom wrath.

(Note: my kids told me that they wished I was still writing about them in the blog because they want to see what I record someday. Ok lovies.)

Home schooling vs pandemic schooling

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A buddy in the US indicated they would be interested in hearing my thoughts on dealing with educating their child through this experience. I am writing this from cool, comfy Scotland where the numbers are lower and the leadership is more sane. (Sturgeon is more sane. We are trying to mitigate the damage BoJo would like to cause.)

We are going through a once in a century global event. Education is going to be disrupted for all people between the ages of 4 and 25. Given that never before in the history of humanity has education been so wide spread and so standardized… this represents a fairly unique situation for coping with. Even the kids who are being allowed to go back to school because numbers in their area are low are not going to be educated how they normally would, their teachers are going to spend a lot of the day talking about basic hygiene and “stop touching your mask”.

I am watching the United States as an outsider at this point. I am reading the opinions of parents and educators all over the country. It is fascinating seeing the range represented, but I suppose that is the point of the United States, right?

The data gives me a lot of feelings.

I am thinking about sending my oldest to school next month because she really wants to go and there are single digits of new cases in this country at this point and they aren’t happening in our council.

The US is a different story. I would be pulling my kids out of school no matter what the district says for a few reasons. Namely: the numbers are climbing out of control, there is mass denial about what is happening from the federal government, teachers are being expected to be all things to every person while their budgets are being slashed, and if people try to go back the most vulnerable in society are going to be in great danger.

My oldest is asking to go to school because she wants a more intense social experience. I have mixed feelings about this because other than letting her do that (which represents a lot of exposure!) I intend to live like lock down is still happening until well into next year. We are seeing very few people. We avoid stores and mask up if we have to go. I fully expect December/January/February to get bad and I’m hunkered down.

So, if you are in the US, my suggestion is to home educate your kids for the next school year. But keep in mind that home education rarely looks like what kids are doing in school. The first and most important suggestion to getting through the next year: try to relax about standards. No one is going to hit a big stride and progress several grades in the next year. Everyone is scared and off their game. That doesn’t mean you are doing anything wrong. If you can get through the next year without an anxiety disorder, well fucking done. Pat yourself on the back. You are a rock star.

My approach to home education has changed a lot from year to year as the needs of my children and the needs of my family have drifted. In talking to other home educating families it seems to be the norm instead of the exception.

Right now in this Time Of Our Covid 2020 my standards involve trying to get as much normality and consistency as possible while not pushing for excellence. I focus more on chores and interpersonal skills than academic skills.

We are watching more screen time than normal. But in order to get the screen time you have to: do your house chores to my satisfaction, exercise, do your academics, and eat some healthy food.

Right now I have a 2 year old, a 9-almost-10 year old, and a 12 year old. 2 year old can have the iPad if she is dressed, her hair is brushed, her teeth are brushed, and her toys are picked up. If she throws a bunch of stuff on the floor the iPad goes up on a shelf because it is now play time. She does ok with this expectation.

Middle Child has maths five days a week. Right now they are working on three curriculums: Houghton Mifflin a year below their expected grade (they asked to start with this level and they are blasting through it quickly), Life of Fred which is a home school very story based alternative approach to maths–I highly recommend it, and supplementary Khan Academy. They spend 20 minutes a day on each curriculum because that way they are making progress and not getting so bored or frustrated. I started my oldest on this type of approach when she was a bit younger than MC is now, but life got in the way. MC works on handwriting by writing letters and stories. They do science work a few days of the week. Science is pretty loosy goosy right now. Sometimes it is botany stuff (sometimes we do yard work and look at the plants and look them up on identifiers and talk about their needs and sometimes we walk in the woods), sometimes they do cooking experiments, sometimes they do anatomy puzzles, sometimes we read about space and I do little pop quizzes, sometimes we watch documentaries… I’m open to a lot of things counting. Both kids have been working on a unit project for a few months about budgeting and shopping.

Eldest child’s extra maths curriculum is a pre-algebra book. So she’s roughly two grades ahead. When she turned 9 she was a full grade behind. In three years she has completed six years of maths and she’s working through the seventh year now. There were a few traumatic months early on when she did a lot of lying to me and the punishment cycle was wicked bad. In retrospect I should have given her less trust at the time because she did a fairly normal set of pushing boundaries and I wasn’t watching closely enough. I will not repeat that error. Her writing expectations are longer and more sophisticated. Her essays resemble those of my high school sophomores and she should be going into (US) 7th grade. Whatever we do for science she has to do write ups that explain what she knew before we started, what she learned, and what she would do differently in the future. She also spends a lot of very focused time on maths and computer animation skills.

I don’t say any of this to brag. I say this as a lead in to: I do not do formal academics with kids before they are 8/9 years old. If your child is 5, 6, 7, and maybe even 8 right now… I would strongly recommend doing as much as you can to relax and not worry about the “standards”. Talk to your kids. If you can afford to buy books, buy them on a wide variety of topics and read them to your kids. If you are able to check books out from the library get at least 20 a week. If you have friends who have a good library in their house: both of you keep good records and borrow things as fast as they will let you. For kids under 8 my general guideline is 2 hours or less of computer time. I might make an exception during lock down schooling of 2 hours of mindless watching and more time if it is focused and involves thinking and doing. Outschool classes are great. I would allow 2-4 hours of Minecraft right now because it’s shocking how much that teaches.

But I sincerely believe with my whole heart that the day should start with chores and exercise. In my house I deliberately organize my kitchen so that my small children can unload the dishwasher. Setting the table for meals is a great job for little kids. Clearing the table is a great job for little kids. Depending on age and ability scooping a cat litter box or giving food to pets. Tidying up their own room. These days I insist on a basic making of the bed because our cats have potty accidents and it’s easier to use a different blanket when you find a surprise “Eww gross” present at night than to have to strip the whole bed right at bed time. I think 8/9 is a great time to start taking turns cleaning the bathroom. A 7 year old can run a vacuum or sweep. This is a good basic list of chores by age. That said: my 9 year old puts a meal on the table about twice a week and does a good job.

Last night’s dinner was 9 year old made. We had venison cooked with oranges, honey, paprika, and salt; sweet potato chips; jalapeño poppers; and salad. It was delicious.

In this time of lock down I think it would be reasonable to have a once a week big baking project that supplies all of the sweets for the family. Have the kid do half or more of the work as they are able. Doubling recipes counts as maths. I love having a white board in the kitchen because I have the kid practice writing the recipe, then do the maths to double it, then check it off as we go through to double check their steps.

Read to your kids as much as you can without going insane. Raise them around literacy and even if it comes later, it will probably come. It’s not a 100% guarantee, but it’s not uncommon for kids to wait until 8, 9, or 10 to read if they have parents who will read a lot to them. They do catch on at some point because they want to play video games or go off and be part of the world faster than their parents will help out with. Video games are a great spur to better grammar. I let my kids get on RPGs with chat rooms at 10 because they have to practice their spelling and grammar because people online are vicious. It’s awesome.

Skip worksheets. They make life hell and impart very little actual knowledge. This is a great time to start writing to pen pals. This is a great time to talk about maths in the world. There are super fun manga books with maths concepts. Bedtime Math has some good stuff.

Increase responsibility. Increase connection. Eat all of your meals together and in the morning ask what the kid wants to do today. In the evening talk about your favorite and least favorite parts of the day. Work on a journal together where you write a short paragraph and the kid illustrates it.

Don’t worry about being perfect. There is no perfect in a situation like this. You are going to be anxious and scared. So will your kid. In my opinion the best thing you can do is get through this with as much grace, love, and patience as you can. If you don’t get through everything don’t beat yourself up. The best possible outcome is having another tomorrow so you can fix your mistakes.

I love you. You can do this.

Compartmentalize, look for your contributions

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I am not being fair. I am conflating my feelings about a lot of different people and situations and I am bordering on cruelty. I don’t mean in the “everything is all my fault because I suck” way.

When I rant ad nauseum about chosen family letting me down that is taken in very general ways and implies things about people who are not in the group I mean to be speaking about.

I have so many conflicting feelings about the Godmamas. I did not behave entirely, totally honorably there. I liked one of them and I grudgingly, barely tolerated the other. I judged their relationship in ways that were none of my business. As a result the one I didn’t like very much quite deliberately got in between me and my friend. I asked to support M after the head injury and her wife told me she would let me know when that was ok. Then when I contacted M after a while she was very upset I had left her alone. But I did behave in less than supportive ways towards their marriage and it was fair that M’s wife didn’t like me very much. She wanted me to treat her like an authority and respect her despite her having beliefs that were very counter to mine and her being a lot younger than me with very little relevant life experience or education on the topics she wanted to tell me how to manage. I was a dick about it. I don’t think I am blameless. But other than accepting direction that really didn’t work for me or pushing past boundaries that were put up I’m not sure I could have done more.

When I’m ranting about chosen family I am talking about the various people who told me that they wanted to be my mothers or fathers. There were more than a few of them. For a while I collected Daddys. My leather mom wanted me to do things for her and show up for her events and make her feel special. On holidays or in times of crisis she had real children to take care of and I was supposed to go manage my own life. Dad explicitly told me that he wanted to be in my life but I couldn’t ever expect him to do anything to help me because he has biological children to support. When he needs money he comes knocking on my door. To the tune of tens of thousands of dollars and many requests.

I’m talking about people in the poly community who told me I was family and then when I stopped fucking them they never called me again.

I’m talking about Sarah. So. So. So. So much about Sarah. My baggage around Sarah could fill several jumbo jets. I feel like an exploited resource. I feel like my help came with strings of expecting something back from her and that is fucked up of me.

I can’t even begin to parse the ways my expectations of Pam have been inappropriate. I just can’t right now.

I showed up in Scotland with so much pain. I feel full of rage and disappointment and distrust. It’s not a good head space for dealing with Jenny. She has tried to help in the ways she perceives me asking for help while not fully understanding the intricacies of what that means. She has misspoken. She has apologized.

I have not been able to accept that apology nor have I been able to be there for her. I feel like I have been a user. I have felt judged and I have done a fair bit of being vicious in my head. I have mostly contained that viciousness in my head, but not perfectly. I can be so mean.

I am upset about a lot of people and I am taking it all out on Jenny. That is horribly unfair on a lot of levels.

I can go through our history and point out times when I felt belittled by things she said. Did she intend to belittle me? Did she intend to insult me? Did she feel negatively in her head?

Didn’t matter. I felt it. I reacted as if that was her point. I am assigning her motive and intent when I have no way of knowing what is going on with her. I know that she fairly regularly puts her foot in her mouth and says things in ways she doesn’t mean. When she does this in my direction I act like it is a vicious attack and totally intentional even though I see it as a pattern in her entire life so it clearly can’t be about me.

But I make everything about me. I act like everyone is mean to me so that I can be a victim of everything and everyone.

That’s…. really shitty and unfair.

I think I project my dislike of myself onto other people and then get angry with them and act like I should cut them off for being mean to me. I want to get chances from other people but I very much act like other people don’t deserve grace or forgiveness. I am selfish and cruel to people who have done quite a bit to show love for me.

For all that Jenny’s words sometimes… definitely lack grace and can feel very hurtful her actions aren’t vicious. When I hurt myself trying to help Sarah years ago she showed up to help me. When I needed support after the suicides in my family she showed up. When I have directly asked her for help with almost anything… she showed up. She did start out judging me when she didn’t know me and over the years she has learned about alternative lifestyles and she has been supportive of my behavior. She offered to throw me a party in celebration of me hitting a three digit body count. That’s… not exactly the action of someone who thinks I am bad for doing that.

But I judge her so harshly. I assume so many negative things about her intentions and her motivations and that sucks so bad.

I can think of years of times when I have over reacted to things she has said and I have been nasty in response to feeling hurt. In the vast majority of the times I can remember being hurt by her words she has apologized.

She’s spent a lot of fucking time apologizing to me and I don’t act like that matters very much compared to my towering feelings of rage because how dare she offend me.

I feel like such an asshole.

I am not great at setting boundaries with her. That’s a fact. I have been thinking that it is kind of like sexual boundaries with Noah. I don’t set them until I explode with rage and act out in ways that hurt him very badly. I mean, I tried to set them but I wasn’t very clear and I wasn’t direct and I hurt him.

Given how much time I spent talking about wanting and needing a break from my kids it doesn’t seem like a cruel and vicious attack that Jenny pushes me to send them to school. I absolutely act like I need to martyr myself to my children and she pushes back on that idea with force. I act like I need to martyr myself to bullshit repetitive tasks that get on my nerves and she pushes me to consider that I don’t have to do that. And I get really angry with her.

Because being a martyr to my children and boring tasks is part of my core identity? Then I get mad at people who don’t affirm that view. That fucking sucks.

That was where I got to on day one of trying to process this. Now it is the start of day two. I spent yesterday arguing with people I used to respect about UBI and how to survive the pandemic and I got told how stupid and ignorant I am. I’m waking up in a bad fucking mood.

How can I be both a martyr to my children and a big fat meanie pants who expects so much work out of them that other people gasp and tell me that it borders on cruelty? (Uhhhh I have cleared my chores expectations with experts because I am a fucking coward.) Other people think it isn’t worth their time or effort to teach kids how to do things because it is easier to just do it themselves and therefore they think that how I raise my kids sounds super high effort and not worth it.

But my Middle Child (9 years old) made dinner last night. She made a green salad, fried potatoes with leeks, and venison with spring onions. Then she thought it would be good with a wine sauce so Noah talked her through how to do that.

I think the effort I put into teaching my children skills is paying off very much!

Sure, an adult stood nearby the whole time to say things like “this is when you should seasoning, what herbs and spices do you think would go well with this?” and “you need to scrape the bottom of the pan pretty hard or you will end up with a burned layer that will taste bad” and “let’s talk about how to make a sauce…”. But she did the work. We are still around for supervision and advice. My nearly 12 year old Eldest Child does not need such advice or supervision anymore. Sometimes I feel nervous and I stay in the room anyway and keep my mouth shut… but that kid is more competent at cooking than I was at 21. I didn’t have anyone around to teach me.

My kids know with surprising sensitivity the difference between a well swept floor and a crappily swept floor. They know what a good mop job looks like and they can critique the hell out of someone who does a bad job (i.e. their sibling).

They can go through whole maths curriculum books and ask the occasional question and otherwise do the work correctly 90% of the time.

They can go to foreign countries and plop down and talk to people and have interesting conversations. They are getting better and better at asking questions instead of treating themselves as a traveling monologue show. They are curious about people and they are learning how that goes.

They are currently doing a grid layout of the yard for science and looking up what plants we have so that they know what to weed in the future. They are digging a pond (sometimes with whining) because they want our yard to have one. (This was their project suggestion!)

Their unit project is coming along nicely. We are working on it fewer hours a week at this point because with the pandemic anxiety, frankly we are all super exhausted and we needed to trim our academic hours a lot and that’s ok. They have made sample meal plans–checked what that means against the jobs they gave their families, checked it against the dietary needs of the families (they really like giving the people in their families disabilities and food allergies?) and had to start over from scratch with an entirely new understanding of how calories and carbohydrates play in people’s lives. They understand what insurance is and how to use it. They have learned a lot about mortgages. They are having to talk through interpersonal dynamics around family layout in order to explain/justify how things would work in their house.

In short, they are learning what it means to be a grown up and they are doing it at fairly high speed. I am really impressed with how much they have learned in a short period of time. This project covers maths and nutrition and handwriting and typing and internet research as a skill. Hell, one kid is having to learn the layout of a town in the middle of Australia because that’s where she wanted to put her family and that means she’s learning about central Australia’s supply chain and what it means for people who live there and where the kids in the family are likely to go to college.

I feel pretty deeply offended by the idea that my way of raising someone will retard them. Do you know what is coolest about all this learning? Less and less of it is hands-on for me. I sit nearby and I answer questions and I give suggestions about where they can go to find their own answers. I critique work and explain why it isn’t the solution to the problem they were trying to solve and I tell them to start over from scratch over and over and over again.

But sure, let’s go with the idea that she just meant that my kids lack the social skills to deal with the school environment because they have been blessed with not having to deal with bullies.

I am sure that there are adults in this world who have to deal with school-yard level bullies. I have had many jobs. Noah has had many jobs. Most of the people we know work. I have not had the experience as an adult that primary-school-type-bullying is a thing that extends beyond that age group. Are there some stilted people in the world who try it? Sure, of course. But you can route around them once you leave school. That’s the important part. In all of life there is one period of time where you are locked in a room with bullies and told to not inconvenience adults with complaining about it. Why is that socialization desireable or something to tell me my children must acquire? Why is that something to bring up in nearly every conversation to say that my kids must learn it? Why? Because it is what you experienced? Because it is what you choose for your child?

I’m not teaching my kids to follow your religion why would I pick teaching my children that an artificial education environment is mandatory?

I mean… I actually support public school quite a bit. And if I had to work I would help my kids work through how to survive in that environment. It’s not that I don’t understand that sometimes it is unavoidable. I don’t think everyone has the correct personality or education to home school! I think schools must exist! I think my kids are privileged (insert vaguely negatively-judgemental word because despite making my kids rich I still have negative feelings about the rich) who get to avoid a major trauma that is inflicted on the vast majority of “normal” people.

There is no fair.

My Middle Child is quick to tell me how unfair it is that she has to do chores because when she went to school almost no one in her class had any chores at all and they mostly got more allowance than her and had almost no limitations on screen time when they got home!

I don’t give a flying fuck.

Everyone gets to parent how they can afford and how they see fit.

I can afford a lot of time and energy spent on my kids. Do I spend a lot of money on them compared to average? Well they have a lot of learning materials. They have gotten to travel a lot. They eat very well per my definition of eating well. Do they have a lot of toys? Not really. More toys = more shit for me to clean up and feel angry about. Do they have fancy clothes? hahahahahahahaha they are still wearing third-hand hand-me-downs from the kid down the street in Fremont along with a few cheap replacement items from when we traveled. Do they have expensive electronics? Well, we did upgrade to a nice desktop unit that is shared by the whole family when the hand-me-down 12 year old laptop stopped being able to upgrade to modern operating systems and could no longer run necessary programs. The other kid is still on one of Noah’s old work laptops from several jobs ago. They do technically have phones, one has an old phone of mine where the battery dies in less than 24 hours and the other kid has a phone that was new about five years ago. Neither kid has turned on one of these phones since we stopped traveling because we have our paper books now and they don’t need them. These phones were always about being reading devices…

So they are definitely part of the modern world but they are not tremendously spoilt in the “having stuff” department. They got mocked at school for how out of date their stuff is. I don’t give a shit. I’m from Silicon Valley. I’m not impressed with trying to keep up with the technical standards of anyone because I deeply understand how messed up that process is.

I don’t think 7 year olds should walk around with phones. I think the city we walk around in is about as safe of an environment as can exist and children need to be able to be away from the control of their parents. My kids go on walks and runs without me. They know when to be home and they bloody well make it back in time.

If the school stuff was being pushed because there was the perception that I need a break… well… there are lots of more creative ways to manage that.

Slowing down to the pace of this place and no longer having a bunch of friends I feel like I “should” be seeing has done a lot to lower my ambient anxiety. That is a break by itself. In exchange for the cats (which apparently belong to the kids and not to me) each older kid does 5 hours of babysitting a week so that I now have a reasonable amount of time kid-free. I did join hook-you-up-with-a-babysitter-sites when I moved here. Guess what I got? The privilege of paying for a matching service and a chance to send emails to lots of people who didn’t respond. Basically my entire experience of searching for childcare was duplicated directly from California. Fucking cheers.

But between the big kids helping with the toddler and Noah not having a full time job… I’m exercising independently more. I have more time to vegetate. I’m getting a lot of stuff done that makes me happy. The big kids are pretty close to where I always wanted them to be on independence for school work. When the big kids faff about and refuse to get their chores done when I ask they get to do fuck tons of extra chores until I’m not annoyed anymore and I get way more down time.

I am taking more of a break. And it didn’t require school. So pushing school as the answer to my problems does not feel like a very honest explanation.

So saying now that you never meant medically retarded you meant school dynamics would be hard and you were just trying to help me get a break… feels like gaslighting.

Breakfast is ready and the day must begin. I will come back to this. I need to figure out what the fuck I am doing with this topic in my brain. I need to fully process this so I can decide how I am moving forward. I need to separate how upset I am about this topic from how upset I am about everything else in the world and I’m totally failing by keeping it in my head.

Judgement and progress report

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Why do I have such an intense horror of being judgmental? I don’t fully understand that horror in myself. I’ve been judging intensely lately. I backed out of an online social community because of one person. Because I judge her like fuck and I can’t be part of a group that tolerates that kind of behavior. In this case she spends a lot of time being a judgy bitch and bragging about all that she does for other people… but in reality she sits in her apartment with her cats on the internet most of the time doing nothing. I don’t think I would care so much about her bullshit only she spends a tremendous amount of time talking about how much she does for her niblings, who are in a highly abusive situation in another country. Only when she has the opportunity to do something for them… she picks her holidays to Asia (and the Olympics!) and tickets to Hamilton over staying with the kids and helping them deal with nightmarishly hard problems. Now she wants lots of sympathy because Hamilton and the Olympics were cancelled and it isn’t fair that she doesn’t get to go. Oh and she wants to be told how sad it is for her that the kids call her crying because they wish she was there helping them.

I can’t say a single nice thing to her so… I’m saying nothing at all anywhere that she hangs out.

She was the last person to tell me that I am fucking up my kids. Her reasoning? Because I don’t guilt trip them enough for normal kid behavior so they are going to have terrible lives and it will be all my fault.

Every single person who has told me that I am going to fuck up my kids, wreck their lives, or retard them has been spectacularly unqualified to evaluate such a metric and the people who are qualified to evaluate children think my kids are having a charmed, fabulous life.

It’s not just that my friends tell me what I want to hear. Professionals who spend their lives evaluating children think my kids are doing well. Judgy non-professionals who don’t know what they are talking about like to tell me how shitty I’m doing. Awesome.

Is that about me or them?

The school started off telling me that my kids weren’t doing so hot academically. Then it turned out that they have shitty handwriting but they are otherwise doing well. Do they handle other children hitting them well? No, they don’t. I’m not sure that is a bad sign about them. I cannot count how many people are traumatized by the school experience. It’s not that my kids suck. It’s that schools are brutal and unhelpful about bullying.

The home education movement here in Scotland is growing by leaps and bounds. The two primary reasons people pull their kids out of school: the schools won’t help children with special needs or bullying. It’s not just my family thank you very much.

But sure, the problem is that I’m wrecking my kids by not just putting them in school and telling them to figure it out on their own.

K.

Yesterday the kids and I walked in the woods for three hours. It was really cool. The only downside? We should be wearing fucking hiking boots, not Wellies.

Oh! Yesterday was a milestone day! The cats were outside for a long time. The cat who is very people-attached was very scared and did not stay out long. The cat who is less people-attached had a great time and was out for hours and hours. I don’t think she went farther than our garden but it was cute watching her out the window.

The kids made cupcakes on their own. They also made a pretty good ganache to go on top.

I have gained 20 lbs since arriving in Scotland. That was not the direction I intended to go with that. Hahahaha. Even with all this exercise. I am now well above my previous lifetime maximum, even while pregnant. I think maybe I could do with less sugar. Maybe it is the calories from alcohol. Who knows.

My alcohol consumption still feels high to me and it still falls well below the line where my doctor would be concerned. Perspective is a funny thing.

My kids now think 17 degrees is oppressively hot. That’s 62F. We have acclimated.

Still not sleeping well.

Today’s garden task is apparently to work on constructing the stairs up to the front garden area next to the driveway. The kids are feeling a wee bit bored of working on digging the pond. I’ve started a bunch of seeds, we’ll see how they go. I should probably take stuff from the house to the polytunnel. At this point I think the tunnel is hotter than the house. I have high hopes for my tomatoes.

I think my watch has charged enough. I am out of excuses for sitting still. Blurgh. I’m sore. I’m tired. I don’t really want to be productive. But I want these things done and if I don’t move… no one else in the house will. Sigh. I feel like I am the motor.